


The Sacrificial Maiden The Upated and Overhauled Edition

by Lotornomiko



Category: Valkyrie Profile 2: Silmeria, Valkyrie Profile Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Reincarnation, Romance, Supposed to be a slow burn kind of romance, Year long deal making, will she or won't she kind of thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-01-03 06:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotornomiko/pseuds/Lotornomiko
Summary: A slow burn kind of romance, Rufus Alicia pairing. Both caught and rescued by a man, a God, who claims to know her by another name, she is a veritable prisoner up in his home in the heavens, past and present at war, her reality versus his memories, and a deal that may cost them both more than they could ever imagine. The revamp of My Sacrificial Maiden fic.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Sacrificial Maiden](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/529730) by Lotornomiko. 
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Valkyrie Profile, or the characters of Rufus and Alicia, and the various Gods and einherjar that appear in this fic. That honor belongs to Square Enix. I make no money off of this fic. It is done purely for entertainment and as a creative outlet.
> 
> \---Michelle

Her breath matched pace with her steps, every exaggerated rasp for air a reminder of just how out of shape she truly was. Her legs, while long and limber, had never had such need before, the young woman running as though the hounds of Hel were after her. With that forward momentum, with the rough forest outskirts abrading the tender flesh of her bare feet, Alana could only squeeze out a whimper, trying to ignore the way that her entire body hurt. It screamed with that pain, forced its demands to stop upon her, and still she kept running.

She wasn’t the only one. In the pandemonium that had beset her quiet little community, there was the screams and there was the howls, a panicked people scurrying. Seeking a safety that wasn’t there, the village Coriander so far removed from their neighbors, from the bustling cities with their heavy guard, that instead there was nothing but farmland and forest for miles to see. This once peaceful landscape made for easy pickings to the group who had besieged the townsfolk, food, drink and women aplenty for the voracious hungers of the men on the prowl.

There wasn’t much else to be had. Coriander wasn’t a rich village in the traditional sense. They and Alana had all lived a modest but happy life, the community one of farmers, merchants, and herbalists. They lived off the land, reaped the blessings of a fertile earth, and were rich not in money but in friendship and family. A close knit group, the people were the type who smiled first, and offered help immediately after, no problem too big for them to not solve together. Until THEY came, that small but still sizable army of marauders, men on horseback and on foot, with steel blade and ice in their veins.

Robbers, killers and rapists, they should have been a rag tag bunch. Gathered together as they were, lawless and driven by their own selfish desires, somehow they had organized as a united front, unleashing chaos and devastation upon the village. Already some men had been killed, the upheaval such that Alana didn’t know if any of her family had yet been spared that fate. She prayed for them all the same, for her father and her brothers, but also for that of her neighbors. For their safety and their souls, the young woman not sure which was needed more.

She might have even spared a moment to pray for herself, Alana low on a long list of priorities. The young woman kept on running, kept on remembering other people that needed a blessing more than her. Completely selfless in the moment, with the very breath burning in her lungs, with it escaping out in wheezing pants that actually HURT, Alana ran and prayed for a salvation that wasn’t coming. With the ground itself against her, twigs and branches lacerating open her foot, Alana cried out as she fell to her knees.

“GO!” She cried out, to the young girl who had stopped just besides her. “Save yourself!”

The indecision played out on the girl’s face, the fright alive in her sky blue colored eyes, but there was slivers of concern mixed into her expression, sweet soul that she was stubbornly shaking her head no. “I won’t leave you, Alana!”

Frustration boiled inside her, but there was also a relief, selfish though that was, Alana not wanting to face their pursuers alone. It was because chief among all her emotions, was that of fear, the young woman frightened, scared witless at the thought of the fate that would surely befall her. That terror in her blood, she still tried to make the other girl leave, Alana not about to let the sister of one of her dearest friends be raped or worse.

“Go!” She shouted, trying to give a much needed push. “I will catch up with you soon enough!” The lie was desperate, Alana knowing that lame as she now was, there would be little walking, let alone running, in her near future. Not with her foot bleeding, the ankle possible twisted, Alana at the last of her pained reserves. Her chest heaved with her panting breaths, a chill upon her skin from the night’s cold air mixing with the sweat of her exertions. She wasn’t dressed to be outside, none of them were, the marauders having arrived in the dead of the night.

With shouts and with that wickedly cruel laughter, they had descended on Coriander. They hadn’t even tried to be subtle or quiet, kicking in doors, grabbing at women, slicing up any and all who tried to interfere. Alana’s house would have suffered the same if not for the fact it had been deep enough in the village, for her entire family to rouse at those first screams from the outskirts. Those shrill sounds and abrasive howls, had set them on alert, they and some of their neighbors rushing out of their homes straight into the worst kind of nightmare.

Women carried off, men slain, houses burning, Alana had done as her father had ordered, taking off for the woods. Fast as she and those that accompanied her had tried to be, their bare feet were no match for the riders on horseback. Even now they were baring down on them, Alana again giving her friend’s sister a much needed push. “GO!”

The young girl whimpered with that awful indecision, and then the dog—a wolf from the looks of it, tackled her to the ground. There was a scream from both Alana and the child, the wolf holding the girl down, teeth bared and growling. Alana didn’t know what to do, what to say, a helpless sound escaping her, and then another wolf was on top of her. She couldn’t even gasp, couldn’t even cry out, her eyes going impossibly large. The yellow gleam of the wolf’s eyes stared into hers, the animal baring it’s teeth with a growl. It left Alana holding absolutely still, the wolf settling its full weight atop her. Past her ran men, and horses, and even more wolves, no one stopping to check on the pinned females.

“Alana...” Came the whispered whimper. “I’m...”

“It’s all right, Sybilline...Just stay still and it won’t hurt you...” Alana tried to be reassuring, hearing the way the young girl broke out into sobs. She wanted to cry herself, so scared and so frightened, so hurting and above all so tired. She’d outright faint from exhaustion, if not for the fear pumping adrenaline through her, Alana keeping a helpless eye on the wolf who growled each time she so much as dared THINK about moving.

Alana and Sybilline would lay there pinned by those fierce beasts for hours on end. Until at last the dark midnight sky started to give way to the first rosy hue hints of morning. Those wolves never lost their resolve, keeping a watchful eye on their quarry. The tension in those creatures’ bodies wouldn’t leave until a whistle sounded, the wolf’s ears pricking upward at hearing it. The change that came over them was almost immediate, a kind of relaxed energy to them as they slowly sauntered free of their prey. It was not an end to the nightmare, not by any bit, hands then grabbing at the two girls. Sybilline shrieked wildly, and Alana was ashamed to admit she didn’t do much better, struggling as best she could, while crying out for a help of any kind.

There was a slap to the face in answer to that. Alana stunned and seeing stars. She was practically dead weight, as she was hauled up off the forested ground, the young woman screaming again in protest as the pain flared up from her foot. She couldn’t stand, she could barely even walk, Alana slumping over to the sound of a man’s cursing. The vile words made her ears ring, her pale skin turning a mottled red as she was suddenly uprooted and hung upside down across the man’s back. From that dizzying vantage, she could see another, that of the man dragging young Sybilline by the arm. The girl was openly weeping, terrified and that much closer to hyperventilating. Alana tried, she really did, to think of something comforting to say, something that would calm the worst of the child’s fears but at the first strangled word, a hand slapped hard against her body’s bottom. Such a stinging attack, stole the words from her, an indignant squeak all that Alana was capable of.

Fight literally slapped out of her, Alana could only hang there and listen. These men didn’t say much, to her or to each other, but there were other sounds to be heard. That of the village burning, the flames crackling, the shouts and the jeers, and above all the women sobbing. Such was their predicament, that Alana wasn’t so sure it was a mercy to still be alive in this situation. She felt terrible for that thought, but the young woman was so afraid, nearly all her bravado gone to the fear of whatever nightmarish fate awaited her, awaited them all.

Drowning in her fear, Alana was unceremoniously dumped, young Sybilline being thrown down as well. Immediate was the touch, the two huddling together, but there was other touches on them, gentle and soothing, that of the other captured women from Coriander. There was the miller’s daughter, and the twins Evelyn and Serena, Jacob’s wife, and elderly Mr. Plum’s niece. Syblline was the youngest, while the oldest of this group wasn’t past thirty. They were all young women, some more ripe than others, but all fresh face and golden haired. Alana realized that last with a start, seeing that only the blue eyed, blondes of her village had been gathered here.

The why was on her tongue, the sight of all those different shades of gold stirring an unrest inside her. An uneasy feeling that only grew worse by the minute, Alana looking from face to face, spying the same downtrodden look in their blue eyes.

“What is the meaning of this…?” She finally whispered. Helpless shrugs and fitful shakes of their heads no, was the only response Alana got. Either they had no answers, or the truth was too horrible to speak out loud. They were oppressed by it all the same, the innate fear that was instilled in all women born of all men alive. The threat, the violence, and it crackled in the air, on everyone’s mind, both captive and captor alike. The men leered at them but from a distance, lewd jeering erupting as another woman was brought forth, the last of Coriander’s young blondes.

She was crying, great big, ugly tears, hiccuping, practically choking on her sobs as she welcomed into the fold of the terrified group. Sybilynne crawled onto her lap, and wrapped thin arms around her voluptuous sister’s neck. Her nightgown was torn in places, once comely fleshed covered with bruises and cuts. She had no words, none of them did, the village women only able to cling to each other for the only comfort offered them. That was how they passed the time, the excruciating long minutes elapsing into an hour, when at last a man rode up to the make shift encampment.

Off of his horse, he was even more impressive, one of the largest of all the men that Alana had thus far seen. His long black hair was streaked with silver, his cruel eyes a reddish brown color that was as unusual as it was unnatural, hinting at a less than human creature. He had sharp cheekbones that left his face almost gaunt looking, and a thin hook of a nose. Unlike so many of this rag tag group of marauders, this invader wore a full suit of cobalt shaded armor. His blood soaked and tattered cape flared out behind him, and where the man walked, the crowd parted, until at last he stood before the group of terrified women.

“Get up! Get up!” A shrill voice urged, and again hands were on her, pulling her free of the group. She wasn’t the only one, each captured Coriander held by a man, their foul breath and perversions pressed against them, as the man, the leader, began walking along the row. He’d stop and consider each of the ladies offered before him, sometimes going so far as to catch them by the chin, and force them to look this way and that way, and Alana knew enough to know this monster of a man was looking for something specific. Something that went beyond the blonde hair and blue eyes, a sinister need there that went beyond rape, to something just as chilling.

She began to shiver, to shake and tremble long before the long haired man stood before her. Alana stared at him, and couldn’t even make a show at defiance, cowering as his hand reached out for her chin. Her bottom lip quivered, the wet sheen of tears in her eyes. She was so afraid of being picked, and yet equally terrified of NOT, the women that had proven a disappointment tossed aside to his men. The sounds that followed, the sexual frenzy that fell upon those women, not something she could block out, the screams and the lustful grunts, the sobbing and the moans.

Near sick from the sounds, from the reality of what was continuing to happen, Alana stared at the monster before her, and thought his eyes went full crimson. Whatever the color, they stared at her, not just at the physical surface, but to what was beneath, unwrapping the many layers of her heart and her soul, until at last, weak kneed and half swooning, she saw him give a grim nod.

Little more than a rag doll at this point, Alana found herself thrown over and tied to the back of the horse’s saddle. She bounced and was jostled for every galloping step the great war steed took, made sick from the motion, and the cold air that caressed her, this journey she was forced on a long one. Through the forest, and past the mountain, to deep down in the valley, where the old remains of a once glorious temple still lingered, Alana was treated as nothing more than a mere after thought, and rendered half dead from the experience.

Out of the shadows of the rocky remains, came other crimson eyed figures. She was too far gone to truly recoil, dizzy and sick, and wondering if she hadn’t gone mad in the process, undead beings all around her. Touching her, pulling on her hair, staring into the blue of her eyes, each one wanting their own confirmation. Each one getting it, a cheer erupting from the crowd, Alana pulled off the horse, and quite literally dragged into the forgotten temple.

She could barely take in the details, the one time grandeur of this place lost to the weathered time of nature and neglect. Grass and limbs broke through the marbled floor, trees extending their branches to cover over the once ornate murals made of hundreds of once brightly colored tiles. There was a musky smell here, animals and their droppings, their kills and their leavings, the creatures padding about as curious witnesses to the twisted procession.

Dragged ever deeper into the bowels of this ramshackle temple, Alana could hear the steady trickle of water growing louder, until they stood before a veritable flood of it. Not even that stopped her tormentors, the young woman dragged through that freezing liquid. It soaked her clothes, and left her shaken to the bone, Alana sputtering and gasping, till at last she was laid out on an altar.

She must have faded in and out of conscience. Each time that she opened her eyes, something more horrific stood before her. Whispering words in a foreign and strangely accented tongue. Painting her exposed skin with blood and oils, and always watching her with those crimson colored eyes. There was a keen anticipation in the air, a lust for something beyond her flesh, Alana sensing the rising need for violence. Hands seem to morph, the tips of fingers becoming wickedly sharp claws, an eager excitement overtaking the group.

Their whispers became outright chanting, growing louder and louder until the deafening roar broke to the advent of claws around her throat. Alana had a moment to realize that this was how she was going to die, her throat crushed by that monster’s paws, her last sight not that of anything human, but instead that of the undead who had laid waste to her village. She couldn’t even muster up the strength needed for a true hysteria, the young woman already so tired and defeated. Long having given up, those blue eyes that had helped mark her as special, began to close, Alana’s one real regret that of not knowing if any of her friends and her family had somehow survived.

* * *

To Be Continued….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins a massive revamping of my “The Sacrificial Maiden” story. A lot of things happen over the years, some unpleasantness from overeager fans of the RuAli pairing, that I don’t want to get into except to say it killed off my desire to work on this fic for YEARS. That unpleasantness has me nervous about dipping my toes back into the RuAli waters, but...I’ve always wanted to work on this story again.
> 
> But as you may or may not know from my other recent works, I’m really unhappy with my older writings. Not necessarily the ideas, so much as the execution. I like to hope and think I got better as a writer since what was the original fic done in...I don’t even remember, but at least a decade has probably gone by!
> 
> So I have been looking over the original..and some things stood out to me...I changed the opening of just who/what was trying to sacrifice Alana/Alicia, and how she was chosen. This veers into some spoilers, but basically I am imagining the demonic forces of Nifleheim want to lure the Lord God Creator to a realm where they can capture, possibly even kill him. So they came looking for Alicia’s reincarnation, to use as bait for their trap. This attempt is clearly not going to work out in their favor! XD
> 
> There’s more I decide to revise revamp, but some of it is major spoilers I don’t want to give up just yet. I will say one of the big changes is to the nature of the deal Rufus and Alana/Alicia strike, and how it will affect the end game of the story. 
> 
> I am in the middle of moving, and soon won’t have the internet until November...trying to get some chapters done for this and other fics in the meantime. 
> 
> Later!
> 
> \---Michelle


	2. Two

The village lay half in ruin, many of its buildings on fire, with things overturned, smashed, and outright destroyed. The devastation had spread to the fields, the harvest that these people had spent all year working to grow and nurture, and the crops not yet picked in danger. Such needlessly cruel havoc, it was worse than anything he might have expected, and yet so completely in line with the malevolent nature of Nifleheim. That brand of evil, it made his fingers tighten on his weapon, his anger such that the man was almost sick with it. That blaze of fury, it bubbled up inside him, a majestic surge of power shooting outward, the light of it spreading slowly but surely over every inch of Coriander.

As potent as it was heady, that use of the power of Creation inside him, Rufus watched as the fires were put out in an instant, buildings rapidly restored, things rebuilt and righted, down to the crops that was so necessary for these people’s survival, it was to his lasting pity that this same power couldn’t right the wrong done to the villager’s souls.

It was not that there was a limit to Creation’s power, so much as they were laws that governed just what could be done. A promise that not even God himself could break with, the lives once lost cast into the cycle of rebirth and ruin, souls either reborn or so wholly destroyed that all trace of them were removed from existence. It was more than a death sentence, that, it was a complete annihilation of a person’s being, such an extreme act reserved for only the most vile of sinners and the most desperate of sacrifices. Rufus had born witness to both suffering that fate, that of the mad man who had blasphemed against the entirety of the world, and that of the brave women who had let themselves be destroyed for the chance to stop him.

Five souls in all had been lost as a result, sinner and saints alike, and with them, balance and order had been restored. Creation itself was saved, the world and its people no longer in such imminent danger. Their every day struggles continued, eight of the nine varied realms content to maintain a lasting attempt at harmony, with only Nifleheim determined to destroy all chance at peace. With Hel as their leader, the demons, monsters, and that of the damned, all strove to steal every bit of existence that they could, to spread their despair and greed to all. Coriander was just the latest in their bid for dominance, and yet it angered him all the more, Rufus aware that these senseless acts of violence, had finally had a true purpose behind them.

Meant to strike a most personal blow to the God who ruled over all of Creation, this unforgivable act had been meant as a trap. Even knowing this, Rufus had still come, discarding Freya’s concerns, putting himself and the world in jeopardy to right the wrong done in the name of catching God. He had been called foolish as a result, deemed needlessly reckless, and far too human in thought. He had argued back that those same faults as she saw them, were what had allowed for God’s benevolence to extend to all the realms, and not just the heavens alone.

Furious as Freya had been, the Goddess has not been able to argue against the truth of that. Creation was thriving, ALL of it, such peace and prosperity the likes of which had never been known under Odin’s thoughtless tyranny. The world itself had become like a paradise, food and resources plentiful, whole nations thriving, Creation remade to be what SHE would have wanted. Freed from the cruel manipulation of the Gods, their mad schemes and blatant toying, it was what SHE, Alicia, had sacrificed her soul for.

“Alicia...” The name and the memory of her, never failed to bring him pain, it and a desperate longing spiking through him. Such bitter sweet hurt, that of a heart never fully healed, Rufus had and still suffered a wealth of varied emotions, the unresolved feelings of a love that had never truly had a chance to be. Now wasn’t the time to slip in to the melancholy over what he had been denied, that poignant loss something to be set aside for a time better spent righting the wrongs of this past night.

“Report.” He said to the sudden presence besides him. The soul, an einherjar, had dropped to one knee, head bowed in a kind of reverent respect that wasn’t easily cast aside. The awe and esteem placed on him, was something Rufus still wasn’t used to, and even less liked, but old habits died hard, more heroes than not resisting the break of tradition.

“Only a few stragglers remain on the outskirts of the village.”

“Good, see that they are caught and returned to their mistress’ stern embrace.” A pause then, Rufus trying to keep the beat of his heart from betraying him. “What of the girl?”

There was a noticeable flinch as reaction from the kneeling einherjar. “Missing.”

He couldn’t stop the surge of unease, the panic and the worry, the alarm bells going off in his head, as the God turned to focus fully on this bearer of bad news. “What do you mean she is missing!?” A different kind of power spread out from him, colored as it was by his spike of emotion, its spread across the village instantly confirming his einherjar’s words.

“Shit!” Rufus swore, already on the move. The einherjar hurried to his feet, following after the God, but there was no keeping up with a man as desperately motivated as Rufus now was. His long strides pounded down pavement and dirt, Rufus passing through the heart of the town, to get to the outskirts, where fighting still took place. It was the heaven’s warriors and it was the scourge of Nifleheim, the damned souls of human sinners not yet ready to give up. Engaged in that bloody and violent combat, no one paid real mind to the cloaked figure who had entered into the midst of the battle.

A rising urgency within him, Rufus began pushing aside einherjar and blasphemer alike, his power still out there searching. Passing over each person, tasting of their soul, and finding them lacking, he continued his frantic quest, until at last before him, stood a demon, it’s malevolent eyes a crimson color that marked it as one of the undead.

Immediate was both their reactions, the demonic creature’s claws going for the God whose weapon rose to block the blow. Sharp tipped nails scrabbled over metal, the divine lance sending off sparks of power that had the monster screeching in pain. With a strong kick out of his right leg, Rufus sent the undead fiend flying back, the momentum only broken by a tree in its path. Its snarl was cut off short, to find a glowing arrow in its face, the divine energy slowly but surely burning a hole into the creature’s cheek.

“Where is she!? Where have you taken her!?” His voice was more frantic than commanding, the hand that held onto the bow and the arrows, visibly shaking.

Even so wounded and in pain, the demon still took the time to taunt him. To mock him with a twisted smile, claws grabbing at the arrow head embedded in its cheek. “Hers will make a ripe soul for Hel’s feast.”

Another arrow flew, this time pinning that hand to the bark of the tree. The undead fiend howled in pain, the divine energy pouring off the metal, burning its tainted soul little by little. “She is an innocent!” Rufus was the one snarling now, drawing the attention of einherjar and damned alike. “Free of Nifleheim and its Queen’s grasp!”

Coughing up blood and saliva, the demon spat in the God’s face. “Believe that all you like...it won’t spare her soul from going under.”

Near blind with his rage and with his desperation, a third arrow was unleashed, and with it a horrible, grating sound, that of the monster laughing. It set Rufus off further, Gungnir transforming from bow to lance in an instant, the divine weapon suddenly at the fiend’s throat. Even that didn’t stop that mocking noise, Rufus wanting answers, and wanting them now.

“You have lost.” That piercing laughter continued, the demon brash and bold as it locked eyes with the God. “So what will it be? Creation or the girl? Which one will you see damned for all of lasting eternity?” A smirk then. “Surely God would not be so selfish...to sacrifice the good of the all for one single, solitary soul...” A pause, the smirk then growing all the more grotesque. “Ah but we mustn’t forget, that this one is special…”

“Damn you...”

“I’ll extend to you Hel’s invitation.” The demon spoke over him. “You’ve not much time left to accept…”

“Oh I’ll be there.” A hiss followed by the pressure of his arm pushing down on the divine lance. “But old Hel is in for a surprise, if she thinks I’ll give up the world OR the girl!” The monster’s mocking laugh was cut off by its head being severed, the narrowed eye malice of it’s expression captured for all eternity, as it fell free of the body, and rolled to a stop against the God’s foot. He stared down at it, still so angry and full of so volatile a need, Rufus bringing his booted foot down to smash the offending face to bloody pieces.

Turning swiftly, he looked at the gathered einherjar, saw that most if not all of the damned had been subdued by them. Such a miserable and angry lot, their hostility and wicked ambition was radiating off them in waves, the group defiant to the last, and clearly intent on causing more trouble should the slightest mercy be shown them.

“Kill them.” Came the cold order, but it was not the God who had given voice to the command, but that of a Goddess.

“Freya!” Surprise was in his voice, along with a wary hostility, the two a pair that weren’t on good terms under the best of circumstances. “Have you come to stop me?”

“Yes, from being more foolish than usual, you idiotic God!” A emerald colored glare met his, the green clad Goddess standing in mid air, with her hands on her hips. “Honestly, do you ever think things through!?” She gestured wildly with her arm, encompassing the newly restored village. “Unleashing God’s miracles with little regard for the target it paints...”

“Coriander was a target long before that..” He countered, Rufus bristling despite himself. “Freya, they know...” He gave a sharp jerk of his head. “Not only that, they HAVE her.”

“Yes, I know...”

Those clipped sounding words raised his hackles, his glare narrowing further as he raged and glowered at the Goddess. “What do you mean, yes, you know…!?”

“Why ELSE would I be here!?” Tensions escalated with that, Rufus feeling very close to throttling the Goddess.

“Well then you understand what I HAVE to do.” It was his tone that was terse, Rufus barely in control of his rage. “And WHY I can’t let anyone stand in my way…!”

Sudden was her reaction, the gold glint of ether the only thing that lingered in the space the Goddess has just been occupying. In the span of the millisecond that it took einherjar and damned to blink their eyes, the lady Freya had gone from her lofty position in the sky, to standing right before the God. That divine energy gleamed upon her hand, followed by a loud slap of sound, the blonde haired woman in green having struck the man’s face.

It was a slap so hard that he actually staggered back, and the sound that escaped him was shocked at best. That nonsensical noise, it and the look that he gave her, were the only reaction he seemed capable of, Rufus doing an open mouthed gape at the Goddess. Freya’s lips pressed together, the woman’s emerald colored eyes looking stormy with her anger.

“You are always such a fool...I fear this side to you will never change, no matter how many more centuries may pass...” She shook her head, and took another step forward, briefly touching fingertips to his weapon, Gungnir. “Coriander may have been ONE of their targets, but never forget that THIS and the power to wield it are their true goals.”

That power came with more than just physical strength, all of Creation’s knowledge stored within, every last rule and responsibility bound to a single choice. To do right by the world, or to do wrong by it, and never had this God wavered with that particular indecision before, Rufus having always wanted to be the direct opposite of his tormentor and predecessor, Odin. It was to his and the realms’ detriment, that the single, solitary element, that one soul in particular, had been found, HERS the only thing in existence that the God might be willing to damn the world to never ending darkness for.

With that thought he could barely meet the gaze of the emerald green eyes that bore into his, the weight of her stare not just one of consideration, but one of daring, the Goddess expression and manner so like that day of a few hundred years ago. That time, on the very tops of Yggsdrasil’s branches, she had put forth a challenge, willing Rufus to prove himself worthy of the power he had been about to claim.

The stakes weren’t much different now, as it had been then, Creation itself seeming to hold its breath, Rufus knowing the one and only answer that could satisfy the goddess, was a promise he could not give.

“I will be careful...” He stated instead. “I don’t intend to give up my power OR the girl’s soul, to the likes of Hel and her minions.”

A great breath expelled out of the Goddess, the sounds so exasperated and weary, Freya taking a step back. “Then you best hurry.” This change in attitude seemed to stagger him as much as her earlier slap had, Rufus just staring at her, flabbergasted. Was it a kindness that had the golden haired Goddess choosing not to comment on his slack jawed response? He’d never know for sure, the green clad deity speaking.

“Her innocence buys her soul some measure of protection.” Freya continued. “But there are ways to work around even that.”

“Ways?” He croaked out, barely able to comprehend what she was implying.

“To drag a soul worthy of the heavens down into Nifleheim’s dark abyss.” clarified Freya. “Evil magic, a long forbidden ritual, that can disguise the purity within...” Her green gaze was troubled, as though the Goddess was doubting herself in telling him this. “It will take time to cast, to make the sacrifice ready for its descent….”

“Sacrifice!?”

“No living creature may tread foot upon the underworld that’s not demon or divine....” She fixed him with a look. “You should already know this...” A shake of her head, a kind of promise in her eyes that foretold that the lecture he was to receive would be put off only for this one time.

“Head to the forgotten temple...” Her arm raised up, ether dripping off one single finger tip. “Those abandoned ruins are perfect for the desecration that must be committed there.”

He had so many questions, might have even owed her his apology, but above all else, amid the many varied emotions he was feeling, the urgency and the desperation, and that thin bit of hope that he’d make it in time, was a sliver of gratitude.

“Thank you.” He said and meant it, the gold orb of divine energy flying free of Freya’s hand. It shot off in an arc, zigzagging past people, marking the path the God needed to follow. A glow accompanied its travels, the light turning faint when it slipped through the trees, and went deeper into the depths of the forest.

“We will finish up here...” He nodded, but barely took to the meaning behind those words, a growing sense of urgency worsened, Rufus innately knowing that to lose track of the ether trail would result in a slim window closing, the soul that he was so desperate towards saving, perhaps lost for good. He took off running, the cloak clasped in place over his shoulders, flaring out, and with every step taken, he seemed to fly, moving with the grace of a divine, and a speed that was unnatural to any other of Creation’s beings. His surroundings seemed to blur around him, his focus narrowed down to the one aid Freya had lent him, moving as it did, with sharp zig zags over and around tress, past the startled creatures of the forest, to climb higher and higher up a mountain, until abruptly a drop was upon them, the arc of gold light shooting down into a valley to come circling around what had to be the ruins of a temple.

His expression grimly determined, Gungnir obeyed an unspoken command, shifting from it’s natural form, to that of the shape of his preferred weapon of choice. The polished silver gleamed, reflecting the light and the glow that surrounded the ruins. Save for the ether, nothing else stirred, not animal and certainly not damned or demonic, Rufus taking careful steps forward.

“Too easy...” He murmured with a frown. Did they not expect him here, or was this yet another of Hel’s traps? Whatever the answer, he had to keep moving, and then all attempt at being quiet was lost, to the sight of blood on the ground. What had started out as a few smears, soon turned into a distinct trail, as though something wounded had been dragged. He feared the answer as to what that something had been, but more than that, it made him nearly blind with fury, Rufus taking off running, his booted feet pounding the ground, and then the broken marble of what remained of the interior’s floor. Things spooked inside the temple, animals from the sound of it, both predator and prey made wary by the God tearing through their makeshift home.

The blood trail stopped just short of the flood, a room that was more filled with water than not. From across its icy surface, came a sound, that of a low monotone voice speaking, chanting some kind of nonsense out. He then plunged waist deep into the water, abandoning the cloak that tried to drag him down with its wet weight, and came at last to the deepest part of the temple. To a place that had once been the heart of a divine worship, now made a mockery of all its values, by the monsters, the demons, who played at stealing a soul.

He couldn’t see the soul in question, but he could FEEL it, both the girl and that ebb of her life starting to slip free of her body. She was barely hanging on, and the claws around her throat weren’t helping the matter, Rufus notching an arrow to his bow. Divine energy didn’t just glow on the feathered tip, it poured off it in strong waves, the God a snarling mass of fury, as he proclaimed to the gathered demons that they had NO right.

The blinding blaze of that launched arrow marked it’s path as true, the pointed tip slamming into one of the wrists of a demon. It screamed and dropped its hold of the girl, her pale and near lifeless body, hitting the floor harder than Rufus would have liked. He was beyond furious in response, arrow after arrow flying, the God on the move, nightmares rushing towards him, more than he could keep track of, his figure swarmed and swamped by that dark mass. He went under, with claws tearing into him, the pummel of fists and other appendages striking him, those fiends relentless but then so was he! With a roar, and a power that shot off him in waves, that strong surge of divine energy sent Nifleheim’s worst flying back, his arrows again airborne, piercing into body after body, the God this wild thing, an unstoppable force that bit by bit made his way closer towards the altar, and the broken form of the girl who lay unconscious before it.

Not even the reinforcements that came rushing out of the shadows could make a difference, Rufus dispatching them all with an ease that was almost laughable if not for the mad rage inside him. Gungnir’s wire sang with every arrow unleashed, this room of worship lit up by all the divine energy burning apart the very essence of the demons. His own ragged breath was heard, a sign not of exhaustion, but one of wordless fury, nothing and no one able to calm him save for the life he was taking into his hands.

“Ah….” His fingers hovered uncertain for one second too long, Rufus cursing himself, for now was NOT the time for any kind of hesitation. He was nervous all the same, whole centuries having passed dreaming of this kind of moment. A touch of any kind, his hands a kind of reverence normally reserved for only the Gods, she was then cradled close against his chest, the girl’s head falling back to give him a start of his own.

Far older than he had anticipated, the girl---more so a young woman, and with the body to prove it, marked the passage of a time he had not realized had even fully passed. To him it still felt like it had only been just yesterday, that he chanced upon the child, the soul that had inexplicably been reincarnated. But for the mortals of Midgard, time had never stopped, at least a whole ten years having passed, if not more, for this woman.

He was made stupid in the face of a beauty that didn’t so much rival that of his memories, as replicate it completely. From the sweet curve of her lips, to the honey hued color of her hair, to the thick lashes of her eyes, she was the spitting image of his Alicia. No, she was more than just her twin, branded as she was by the ever weakening soul inside her, this young woman somehow against all the odds, and the laws of providence, this was his lost love reborn!

“Alicia…” His vision blurred with a hint of his gratitude, a tear falling free. It was a miracle, one he had prayed for and given up on ever happening, this soul meant to be struck from existence. It had never sat right with him, the unfairness of it all, the idea that Alicia would be punished instead of rewarded for the sacrifice she had given.

The impossible had happened. Somehow, someway, by some power higher than even that of God, having righted a wrong that had tormented him for centuries. He didn’t know who or what they were indebted to, but the grateful deity wasn’t about to squander this, their second chance. Not to Hel, and not to the young woman’s own fragile state, Rufus lowering his head to brush lips over hers.

Cold and trembling at first, the warmth of the ether on his lips began to work its own miracle. Her lips began to take on a heat of their own, quivering mouths joined together, and from that merging of flesh, a healthy flush began to overtake the pale skin. It was life, and it was vitality, a healing magic that brought her heart beating a stronger tempo, her chest rising and falling easier with an even breath, a soul that had almost snapped free, instead pulled back, death and damnation both held at bay once more.

Snuggled into the warmth, the young woman began to stir. Slowly at first, but then with a rising panic, her soft hands pushing at him, trying to break them free of the kiss. It was wrong of him, he knew, but Rufus lingered longer than the miracle required, enjoying the kiss in a way that was pure need of a different kind, that of a love and a desire denied for so many centuries thus.

Her hands became more and more insistent, the tension within that frame making her come off as frantic, and only belatedly would he then remember, that mortals had need to breathe. She was already half swooning as a result, eyes that he knew would be colored so beautiful a blue, fluttering to look up at him.

“Hey...” It was more awkward then he felt their reunion should be, Rufus giving the young woman, a sheepish looking grin. “It’s been a long time…Alicia…”

“Ah...” She struggled to form the words, a questioning sound at the end of them. “Alicia?” He could hear the flustered beat of her heart, the sound faster than was healthy, that frightened tempo more than any mortal could maintain, and with it, went her eyes, the blue color lost to the sudden weight slumping against him, the woman having given in to the faint.

* * *

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m glad I took a nap in the middle of writing this. I was having SO much trouble with my first draft of the Freya Rufus scene...so much so, that upon coming back, I HATED that first attempt, and trashed it into what felt like the better read. Overall, Freya aside, I had enjoyed writing this chapter. XD
> 
> \---Michelle


	3. Three

She didn’t know what was real, what was fake, those dreamy imaginings of fragmented recollection the result of an over-exhausted and long terrified mind. Such had been her panic, the fear, that and the certainty that she was going to die or worse, so thoroughly cemented as truth in her head, that there was little room for anything else. Certainly not for a savior, the man whose kiss had held the hot heat of a long repressed desire, that warmth and vitality a miracle Alana hadn’t yet been able to appreciate or want.

In those arms, that strong and sure embrace, she hadn’t been capable of feeling safe, suffocating instead on a breath that was both parts sob and scream. Made dizzy and afraid, her panic hadn’t allowed her to truly think or to focus, Alana barely aware of what set her assailant apart from the rest. She didn’t truly notice the unusual color of his hair, or feel the icy wetness of his clothes. The young woman certainly didn’t notice the look in his eyes, the hope and the affection shining within. She could only focus on the fact that he was kissing her, and gentle though that expression ultimately was, the violence that had beset Coriander, that had targeted the women in a particular way, had been fresh on her mind.

Fighting as best as was possible in the moment, Alana had pushed back against his chest. Desperate to break free of that warm contact, and for the breath that was vital, the young woman had already been halfway to fainting, when she heard him say something, a name of some sort.

Alicia…

She had tried repeating it, and THAT took the last of her strength, Alana passing out for real. Tumbling down into the well of darkness that was both dreams and nightmares, she could only exist in that in between state, plagued by worries, by doubts and by fears, the woman drifting in and out of sleep, but never full awakening. Not even to the sound of voices near her, a man and a woman arguing. They both had sounded so angry, so mad, their words akin to riddles, that heated discussion so far removed from anything Alana could have understood. The one and only thing that she had been able to truly pick up on, was that of a name, and the importance around it. Alicia this, Alicia that, Alicia would have wanted, and each time she heard that name spoken, it made a painful something throbbed from deep within Alana.

Another time there was a man’s low voiced murmur, accompanied by the back of fingers caressing over her cheek. That gentle touch seemed to hold its own weight of expectation, that hopeful demand something that Alana shied away from. She kept on sleeping, as if that was her one and only means of protection, hearing that name, that Alicia, once more.

Sometimes the argumentative woman was back, other times it was just Alana and that man, his voice a low urgent murmur, his hands clasping around one of hers as though in prayer. Once she heard the sound of several females, their voices soft as they made quiet chatter around her. It was those women that helped to somewhat reassure her, none of the violence and the screaming that had spread through out her village to be found. These ladies didn’t sound hurt or afraid, and they certainly didn’t come off as though they had been traumatized by the events that had taken place in Coriander. So at peace were these women, that it made Alana want to believe it had all been nothing more than a nightmare. Nothing more than some horrific imagining brought on by exhaustion and one too many worries, more than one rumor having gone around her village about possible monsters having been sighted.

Surely that talk of demons and undead had made their impact on her, in a world that was otherwise peaceful save for that of the underworld and its threats. She had never seen a single monster herself, but the idea of them had taken root, brought to life in vividly horrific detail in her dreams. Her nightmares, Alana unable to laugh at her own mind’s silliness. It had been too real for that, everything from the crimson malevolence in the fiends’ eyes, to the dig of claws around her neck. That horrific place was past her now, the village was safe, and if a monster DID dare tread against Coriander, the young men of the village were more than prepared to fight it off.

Reassured in thinking that, Alana began to ease out of that drifting state for real. Relaxed as she felt, there was an energy there too, the young woman eager to start her day. To break her fast, and get her chores over with, to connect with friends and family, to actually live the life she had been so terrified of losing. She wanted to see her parents’ smiling faces, to endure her brothers’ teasing, and to hear the latest words from her friends. Alana in fact, wanted the reassurance of them all, to have the last of her uncertainties chases away by the every day normal of her village.

Eager for it, her lashes quivered, and then her eyes were blinking open. Her unfocused gaze may have not been able to immediately make out the details, that of the extravagance she would soon behold, but she felt it all the same. The sheer opulence of the mattress beneath her, the downy soft pillows, and a thin fabric that shouldn’t have been as warm as it was, that colorful material something the likes of which Alana had never before even touched. Such expensive comfort made her heart beat quicken its tempo, the young woman positive that this couldn’t be HER bed, and with it came fear and a whole lot of confusion, Alana not at all understanding the hows and whys of where she was.

That burst of panic only grew worse as her gaze evened out, all of her tired, lethargic state lost to the sheer beauty of this place. The half opened windows that took up nearly all of the Eastern wall, the bright blaze of a summer’s sun casting beams of light that reflect off emerald green and golden hues. It was too beautiful a day, those endless fields of warm color extending further than she could see. It was so wholly unlike the time of Coriander’s fall harvest, the acres of viable farmlands that should have been picked clean, the people of the village well busy with preparing for the upcoming winter.

Falling back against the bed’s many pillows, Alana stared up at a high ceiling, whose surface was a master piece of paint and colored tiles. There seemed no set theme to its pattern, just that wild splash of rainbow that seemed to shift and ripple the longer that she remained staring at it. She blinked her eyes, sure that she was imagining that faint movement, but not that of a bell ringing from a distance. More than one from the sound of it, a faint melody the likes of which she had never before heard, this music far too elegant and rich for a farming village like Coriander.

It was just another thing screaming of how she was no longer in her home, or in her village, maybe not even in her own country. That imagination that she could admit was overactive at the best of times, tried to kick in with its own what ifs, Alana doing her best to not let it get her all hysterical. It was difficult that, when all the possibilities that she could come up with made it all the more likely that her nightmare hadn’t been just a dream after all. With that in her head, with the young woman struggling to control her breathing, she spoke out loud the less offensive but no less scary outcome of the attack she was now sure had really happened to her village.

“Did….Did I DIE?” She was pleased to note that her voice wasn’t betraying just how strong the hysteria deep inside was, though Alana still couldn’t keep the frightened yelp contained at the sound of another woman answering her.

“Goodness no.” Her voice was kind, a warm laugh bubbling up within her, though it didn’t feel as though she was poking fun at Alana. “Though I suppose I can understand WHY you would think that.”

“You….you can?” Alana slowly sat up and turned towards the approaching woman. She was a good ten years older than Alana, if not more, though her chestnut hair had not yet given way to any sign of silver. Her gentle expression was colored by the bright hazel of her eyes, and a smile that should have put the village girl from Coriander at ease. But her heart was racing as fast as her thoughts, because to Alana there was only one other option that could explain where she was. And that one might very well be a fate worse than death!

“I mean this is a rare circumstance, a special exception for a very fortunate young lady.”

“Fortunate!?” Alana couldn’t quite keep a sliver of indigence from seeping into that exclamation. She didn’t feel very fortunate, the horrors that had led her here, only matched by what she assumed was to be her fate.

If the woman picked up on any of Alana’s unease, she didn’t let on. Instead she kept right on talking, almost as though the girl from Coriander hadn’t said anything at all.

“He’ll be so glad to know of your rising.” confided the woman with another smile. “His young lordship was besides himself over how long you stayed under...even with his miracle’s aid.”

Alana wasn’t sure what the woman meant by a miracle’s aid, and truth be known, she didn’t much care, more focused on the idea of this young lordship and what he could want with her, although she suspected she already knew. The thought made her skin crawl, Alana shuddering beneath the strange blanket, her reaction made worse by the memory of a man’s mouth on her.

She couldn’t recall what he had looked like, but his feverish heat and that near unrelenting pressure of his lips, had branded a permanent impression on her. It made her toss off the covers, Alana almost distracted by the long and frilly white night gown that she had been changed into. It wasn’t too immodest a look, but it also wasn’t anything that belonged to her, the young woman’s legs shaking, as she tried to get up out of the bed. They didn’t seem to want to hold her, and she was too far gone to register it had nothing to do with the foot she had injured, no sharp flare up of pain to accompany her stepping down onto a very plush carpet.

“Easy there...” The woman had caught at Alana before she could fully crumple, and though the girl from Coriander tried to balk at the assistance, she found herself seated back on the bed’s edge. “It might be better to just rest up and wait on his return….”

That was the last thing that Alana wanted to do, her alarm ratcheting up by several notches at the mere thought. She tried not to give in to the rising hysteria, the fear of what she imagined would happen in this room, on this bed, should this young Lord return before Alana could make good on an escape.

Even panicked as she was, Alana tried to keep a clear head, to not give in so completely to her fears. Otherwise she might start crying, or worse yet begging, betraying her desire to run the first chance she could get, and she didn’t even know if this seemingly kind woman could even be trusted.

“I...” She hesitated. “I am a little tired...but also hungry.” Which wasn’t a complete lie, her stomach making it’s half starved state known with a gurgle.

“Oh...Oh!” The woman almost looked sheepish. “I’d almost forgotten just how often and vital a need hunger is for a person.” She made a tsking sound then. “Been up in the clouds so long, my head has practically gone to mush. Let’s see about getting you something to eat...his Lordship can wait till after.”

“After...” She almost squeaked the word out, but somehow managed to maintain the lie of being calm. Certainly her collected tone seemed to reassure the woman, another smile given, as the woman fussed at her apron.

“You know how men can be. That much never changes, and his Lordship has been eager for a long time now...for longer than you might realize.”

An eager Lord didn’t sound as though it bode well for her, Alana sure some of the color had leeched out of her pale skin. She couldn’t even find the words to speak, instead just plastering on a warped attempt at a half smile.

“Well than, let’s see about getting you something good to eat.” The woman continued. “Is there anything in particular you would like? We have some of everything.”

“Um...” She couldn’t, wouldn’t concern herself with food, not when her number one priority should be that of escape. The woman would prattle on, listing off some suggestions of food, and ultimately, at Alana’s sheepish shrug of shoulders, a warm bowl of broth was decided on. The woman almost seemed disappointed in how simple a fare it was, shaking her head and muttering something softly under her breath.

“Well then, I’ll be back quicker than two blinks of an eye.” She said, and Alana reached out, as though to grab her. “Yes?”

“Uh...” Again her tongue stalled, but more than anything, Alana needed information. She needed to know just where THIS was, and how far from Coriander she had been taken. The young woman wasn’t well traveled, but she knew how to ride a horse, and thought as long as one could be stolen, and pointed in the right direction, Alana was certain she could make the journey home.

“How long was I….was I out?” She was trying to gauge how much time had passed, as if that could give her a rough idea of how many days travel it was between here and Coriander.

“How long?” The woman shrugged. “Couldn’t really say. Time has little meaning in a place like this.”

That made Alana frown. “Time and its keeping should always be important...” The look she received was kind, but was also a bit indulgent, as though the woman was trying to humor Alana for an odd idea.

“I suppose so...”

It still wasn’t an answer, but she had other questions to try. “So...just WHERE are we?” She tried to act casual, as if that inquiry wasn’t of vital importance to her. That the woman seemed to hesitate, made frustration bloom amid her panic, Alana watching as many different thoughts seem to cross the woman’s mind.

“Somewhere...safe...” She hedged, as though even that was a struggle to admit to.

“But where?”

“I...oh dear...this is never easy...” The woman had turned completely flustered, fussing over her apron and skirts. “And in this case, its even harder than most...I really think you should wait on his Lordship to tell you...”

Alana didn’t plan to be around to ask him anything, her voice coming out sharp, with a kind of authority she normally reserved for her youngest brother. “WHERE!?”

Those nervous hands stilled, the woman looking as though she was bracing herself. “Why...why you’re up in the heavens themselves...Asgard, the realm of the Gods, and the seat of all Creation...”

For a drawn out moment, all Alana could do was stare as the woman nervously babbled. She barely heard the words, barely understood the reassurances the woman was giving her, Alana being reminded she had not died. It was absolutely ludicrous, her mind rejecting this info for fiction, the girl not sure just what sort of madness she had been dragged into, but she was quite certain she wasn’t about to stay for anymore.

“Oh...” Her voice sounded dull with exhaustion, Alana made a show of sliding under the bed’s covers. “Oh my…”

“I know its a lot to take in...” Alana had to bite back a snort at that, this absurd situation and those outrageous claims not something she could put faith in. “I’m really not the one to prove it to you…” added the woman. “Someone like his young Lordship however can…”

“Oh...” A nod of her head to show she was listening, to pretend that she cared about and believed in this outlandish story. “I will look forward to meeting with him.” A pause, Alana then stressing her next words. “After I’ve had something to eat...”

“Oh...oh! Yes, of course! A satisfied stomach will make it much easier to deal.” She had broken into a relieved smile, body bobbing with excitement. “I’ll be just a little while...don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything else. I’ll be around to handle it all!”

“Er...thank you...”

“Esme...” The woman said by way of introduction. “Call me Esme.”

“Um all right...” Common courtesy made her answer, Alana starting to try to introduce herself as well. “I’m...”

“Oh it’s quite all right. I already know who you are. EVERYONE here does!”

Her brow furrowed at that, Alana not able to understand, the idea of everyone here knowing her name, absurd, the young woman not thinking herself anything special enough to deserve that kind of acknowledgment from strangers. The situation just got stranger and stranger, the unease she felt being magnified with every tidbit of info she could get from this Esme.

“The broth?”

“Oh yes!” Esme clucked her tongue against her teeth. “I’ll talk a person’s ear off, if I’m not reminded to stop. Just sit tight, and I’ll be back!”

This time when the woman tried to leave, Alana made no attempt to stop her. But neither did she sit there to linger and wallow in her sense of bemusement. Instead she’d count out the seconds in her head, giving it a good five minutes before she launched into action. Even that seemed too long a time to wait, Alana not sure how far away the kitchen quarters were, or just when that Esme would return, but she knew she had to get out of here.

She set her bare feet on the floor, sank into the wonderfully lush carpeting, its fibers so soft, it was almost like floating on what Alana had always imagined a cloud would feel like. She wouldn’t let that distract her, wouldn’t let any of the grand comforts drive her away from her task. The one sole concession that Alana did take, was to slip on the pair of soft soled shoes, that seemed to match her nightgown in that white color and sparse frills.

It left her as ready as she could be, given the circumstance, Alana vowing that along with a horse, she’d steal some food and some actual clothing, the provisions needed for however long a trip she might take. She only felt a slight stirring of shame at the idea of becoming a thief, Alana hoping the Gods would overlook that sin for the necessity that it was.

That necessity is what drove her, a determined Alana making a bee line for the windows that took up so much of the eastern wall. It was to her luck, that they were so large, and that someone had carelessly left them partly open. It meant she didn’t have to struggle with the heavy glass, and once she had made the short climb up onto the ledge, it was only a matter of dropping that same distance into that colorful field of flowers.

Their perfume all around her, the smell of the many types of flowers didn’t overwhelm each other, so much as enhance her nose’s experience. There was so many kinds, and even colors she had never known could exist in nature, Alana wide eyed with appreciation, but unable to dally. She walked a few uncertain steps, and then just like that, she had broken out into a run, the pace and her fear almost as bad as it had been during the attack on her village.

Soft petals brushed against her ankles, a thorn catching at the hem of her nightgown. Alana tugged it free with a rip of sound, there was so many flowers about, that there was no safe spot to step, her feet trampling the colorful flora. She cringed over it all, not so much about the senseless waste, and more about the blatant path it left, the young woman hoping she would soon be past this field, and into terrain that would be easier to hide her tracks from any would be pursuit.

She kept waiting to hear the shouts, to hear dogs or worse chasing after her, the memory of the attack on Coriander back and alive in her head. Alana ran, remembering more and more, the people hurt, raped, even killed. The village had all but been destroyed, houses burning down, and even the fall harvest had been ruined. Those who had survived, might not live out the winter, their homes itself gone for good. Coriander would most likely never recover, instead stripped and scoured off the face of the world.

Such a realization had brought tears to her eyes, but Alana never once slowed. She’d figure it out, deal with whatever and whoever was left, find what was left of her family, her friends, and go where ever it was that would be a fresh start. A new life for a new village, and as painful as it was, Coriander might better be off forgotten, after the devastation that had occurred. To the people’s home, but also to their heart, their souls.

Certainly her own soul hurt. For everyone but especially for those who had died, and the women she had heard being raped. Alana didn’t know how she could face them, didn’t know what could be said, relationships, lives forever changed. That unenviable result still wouldn’t keep Alana staying put, her desperation such she had to get back to the village as fast as possible. Her legs kept on moving, running at a pace she wouldn’t be able to maintain forever. The flowers had given way to a field of wheat, the golden stalks almost taller than her head. They brushed against her body with every step she ran, Alana so blind as to what lay about so that it it was almost a relief when she burst free of them.

Almost, but not quite, Alana stopping up short with a gasp. For now she could see more and more of the landscape around her, the sheer magnificence and beauty, and that of the absolutely impossible. This was an island, just one of many, this grand piece of land floating high and sure above smaller, but no less impressive land masses. Everywhere she looked was that stunning beauty, soaring about the clouds and the vast expanse that made up the heaven’s sky. Alana could only gape in disbelief, in dismay, her shock giving way to that horror, the young woman realizing that she really must have died after all.

* * *

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m on a roll it seems….I’m surprised though I got this one done already. Mostly cause I didn’t start writing it until like 2 in the morning, then quit around five to try and get some sleep. But I had a lot of trouble falling and staying asleep, so I think I am running on only three hours maybe of rest. So I didn’t think I would be able to finish this one today….but my insomnia is letting me be productive for once it seems! Yay!?
> 
> I am a little uncertain about the last paragraph. I wonder if it was too abrupt, if it was a good stopping point. But I think my energy is fading, so that I can’t think straight to figure out how to add on any more. I had been hoping to have Rufus pop in at the end...but it didn’t happen. Next chapter for sure!
> 
> Which will be a Rufus POV I believe. I struggled with starting three, cause I couldn’t decide which character should be the narrative. I was strongly leaning to wards Alicia/Alana...and I am pretty pleased with the results.
> 
> Still in the middle of a move...but haven’t completed it yet. X_X So damn stressful…
> 
> Laters!
> 
> Michelle


	4. Four

The Goddess before him was a golden haired vision, a haughty loveliness clad all in green. A patron of beauty, among other things, even at her most angry and scowling, Freya could and did inspire awe in most every being. She might have even inspired it in him, if Rufus hadn’t been so intimately familiar with that of her tongue, a weapon that could and often did run towards provoking him. It was never outright blasphemy, the harsh words often a cruel truth that the God did not want to acknowledge or face. Easier would be the lie but hers was a nature not prone to even the sweetest of coddling, Freya refusing to keep quiet with her disapproval and worry, the blonde haired female fearing the price that the world might soon pay for HIS folly.

He couldn’t begin to allay her fears, not with so sweet a temptation in reach. He couldn’t resist such a lure, couldn’t even make the effort to try, a certain young woman perhaps his one true weakness in all of Creation. Softened by her, by the feelings he has let fester inside him for centuries, Rufus knew that the world was made vulnerable as a result. It was through no fault of her own, save that for her existence, Alicia an innocence that the God should have kept far from.

Heaven help him, but he had tried to do right. By HER and by the world, Rufus as God doing his best to keep his distance. From that chance encounter one early morning, to the hours leading up to Nifleheim’s attack on Coriander, he had clung to the need to remain impartial. To keep his feelings at bay, to not be ruled so utterly by them, and that had all gone to Hel literally, the moment he had had a slim inkling of the danger poised to be visited upon Alicia.

Regret something he often wore like a second skin, a grim desperation had moved him towards action. He couldn’t lose her! Not this time, not even if Creation itself twisted and distorted as a result, the world and its people damned for his choice. In that moment he hadn’t been an unbiased God, but instead very much a man, love and that overwhelming need overriding all else.

It should terrify him how much the man AND the God were willing to risk for her. Certainly it came close to frightening Freya, loathe though the Goddess would be to ever admit it. Such a primal feeling still stirred unease between them, Freya all brimstone and fire with her tart tongue, both angry and lecturing, always reminding him of his duties. The allegiance sworn, the world owed the selfless and self sacrificing God that Rufus had indeed become.

He had worked tirelessly at that, to uphold the peace and his promise, bearing the weight of all of Creation and its many expectations. It wasn’t just that of petitions and pleas, action was constantly needed, existence needing a subtle kind of guidance. Rather than the heavy handed manipulations and greed of his predecessor, Odin, Rufus had given the realms a kind of autonomy few had ever before enjoyed. He had let them decide much of their own fates, had actively worked with rather than ruled over, and had even gotten his hands dirtied on numerous occasions. With the blood of the world’s few remaining enemies, and with the sweat of its physical labors, Rufus walking among the people, living and working, even fighting along side them.

He had helped to farm fields, to build homes. He had learned the people intimately, their hopes and their dreams, their laughter and their fear. Eight of the nine realms had known him in some form or another, and yet Midgard always had retained the most special of significance. From the adventures there, to the people known, that land was filled with memories that were both treasured and painful. For it was there, that he had met HER, traveled with her, learned and loved her.

Alicia.

The source of his bitter sweet regrets, the vow that he had pledged in her name had become the driving force of his existence. That of making the world into the one she had fought and died so valiantly for. Determined to not let her sacrifice be in vain, Rufus had molded himself into a God that always did right by the world.

Always until now, Rufus knowing everything had begun to shift long before the attack on Coriander. From that first sighting, that chance encounter of a child, the innocence in those trusting blue eyes, the gap toothed smile, and the undeniable soul that was contained inside, a selfishness had birthed to life inside HIM. He had tried to fight it, had done his best to keep away, reasoning she was owed a chance at a normal life. The desire had still been there, lurking in the recesses of his heart, waiting and rewarded when Nifleheim had finally made its move.

Left with no choice but to act, and against Freya’s cold advisement, Rufus had gone to Hel’s trap almost gladly, a sliver of selfishness inside him that was willing to damn all of existence for the opportunity within reach. He was almost ashamed of how quickly he had grabbed for it, for her, racing after what he had thought would still be a child, only to find the startling promise of a young woman instead. Already lost long before he had touched his lips to hers, the miracle of Alicia’s rebirth had bound them ever closer together.

Once in his arms, there was no letting go. That selfish desire, that desperate need, Rufus knowing that the only way to safeguard the girl, was to take her with him. He had brought her to the heavens, to his home, tethered by those invisible chains of fate. It was a gift given, an excuse needed, the justification granted to excuse his own highhandedness where she was concerned, and he was downright giddy at the thought of making up for the time lost.

Not even Freya’s somber disapproval could bring him down, Rufus consumed with thoughts of Alicia. He had SO much to say to her, so much to do, a whole new world to introduce and to show her. There was vanity in that, a prideful feeling of all he had accomplished in Alicia’s name. He was ready for the accolades owed, the awe and appreciation of the one who had driven him so. With the many hopes and expectations in his heart, with the need deep in his gut, that selfish sliver only grew stronger, the good of the world continuing to be ignored in the favor of one single, solitary soul.

He couldn’t focus on anything, on anyone but her, the knowledge that she was here, alive and ever so close a distraction of such magnitude that report upon report remained unread, the stacks of paperwork on his desk near comical in the heights that they reached. More and more came, until finally Freya herself had arrived, one hand on her hip as she now dramatically threw down the latest before him.

“This cannot go on!”

He barely spared it a glance, more interested in reaching out with his awareness to keep close monitor on the still slumbering Alicia.

“Come now, Freya...” His tone was unreasonably calm, Rufus giving a glimpse of a smile to her. “The world won’t fall apart in just a few days.”

“You’d be surprised.” She spat. “Well oiled machine that you have molded Creation into, all it takes is one flimsy cog to upset the rest.”

He fixed her with a measured look, the thinly veiled meaning of her words not lost on him. “Alicia was more a danger to the world and herself, if I had left her to remain helpless in Midgard. Or have you forgotten, Hel now knows and is after her?”

“That insufferable bitch.” grumbled the golden haired Goddess. “She won’t be deterred for long, regardless of WHERE you keep the human. Hel and her forces will keep after her, Nifleheim won’t rest now that a means to take you and your power is in sight.”

“Then that is all the more reason to keep Alicia here.” Rufus pointed out. “With warriors a plenty, and the Gods to aid them, Hel won’t have an easy go of it.”

“No one will.” Freya’s tone was almost plaintive. “Already it stirs, the trouble that they are capable of, starting to penetrate into the other realms.”

“Nonsense.” dismissed Rufus. “They can’t have done much in just a few days’ time.”

“With you distracted?” countered Freya. “It’s enough to give them the foothold to start.” At his quiet response, Freya sighed and gave him a strained smile. “That is the price towards maintaining peace. To keep it one must be ever vigilant, and only God has the power and strength to watch over ALL of existence...”

His temper flared, not so much fueled by anger, but by a smidgen of guilt spurred to life by the hard truth of her words. “What would you have me do!?” Rufus demanded. “Abandon Alicia to the likes of Hel!? If that is the case, then why aide me in rescuing her in the first place!?”

“I helped save the girl, not for her, but for you.” Freya retorted. “Rufus...we all know if her soul truly had been defiled and brought down to Niflheim, you WOULD have followed.”

“Damn right I would have!”

“That PASSION is precisely what the world cannot afford, your reckless behavior bound to get yourself caught and killed. I cannot allow that to happen, won’t stand back and abide the ruin of all you endeavored to give us.” Her expression stern as it was, couldn’t keep from gentling with the soft understanding that now flashed in the Goddess’ eyes.

“Rufus….” She said his name softly. “Power and greed are not the only lusts that corrupt.”

He flinched as though slapped. “I am not at all like Odin, or his killer.”

“You care too much for that.” She agreed. “And yet you do share one trait with him. Be it love, or be it lust, that need for one single being is not something God can afford to allow himself.”

“You know nothing of love, if you think it can just be switched off when unneeded or unwanted!” The look that Freya gave him let Rufus know that even God could go too far. “I...I’m sorry.” His tone was gruff with that uncomfortable apology. “It is just...for too long...I have mourned her to not embrace this as the miracle it is in truth.”

“We don’t even know the hows or the why of her rebirth!” The exasperation was back. “The reason behind it, or her purpose…”

“It still doesn’t make Alicia any less innocent.” reminded Rufus. “You know as well as I do, that that soul is pure.”

“It would be easier if it wasn’t...”

“Easier to do what? You think I would allow you, allow anyone to do away with her, then!? Not a chance in Hel of that! For good, or for bad, tarnished or pure, I will fight ANYONE who dares to lay a single finger on her…”

He was fierce as he said that, power seeming to gather inside him at those words. Freya stiffened in response, but did not back away, staring at him in a way that was pure defiance.

“She is an anomaly...something that should be impossible to be! Her existence defies all the set rules of Creation! Nothing, no one should have the power to do that, not even God!”

“She is Alicia.” A simple but no less powerful statement. “That is all that matters to me.”

“Then existence itself is doomed.” With that grave proclamation, Freya’s form seemed to glimmer and distort, the Goddess fleeing between the here and the there. Rufus was left staring at the empty space she had just been occupying, and then he swept out his arms, to violently knock the still growing stacks of papers to the floor.

The sight of those towers toppling, did nothing to soothe him, the poor choice of phrasing an all to revealing truth. For his head was full of her, with thoughts and concerns, with the love and the hopes, and most of all, the expectations. He could barely hear the world as it was, the voices that raised up in supplication for his guidance and miracles. They had been reduced to nothing more than a dull buzzing that he could and had of late often ignored. Alicia had taken too much precedence, the young woman entirely consuming him. He had let his selfishness feed, had gorged himself fat on only its desires.

Bloated with that strength, what was once a sliver whispered excuses in his ears. Telling him it was okay to slack off, that after centuries of strict effort, he was owed a reward. A break from his eternal vigilance, the world’s weight too much for even God alone to bear. The expectations put upon him were of crushing strength, and no one person could endure against it indefinitely. He wavered uncertain in response, the temptation that was Alicia beckoning to him, that selfish voice inside him nearly seducing him with the promise that all would be okay.

The voices of the world muted but not deafened, Rufus hesitated still. Was this how easy it had been for Odin to turn a blind eye to the realms in need? Was splitting his attention even for a second, the first step towards true corruption? There was no real way to know without first doing, and yet the God couldn’t believe that Alicia or his love for her, would be so thorough his damnation. His or the world’s, a soul that pure, that had made a sacrifice so noble, and had held a dream that had carried on and lived beyond its death, couldn’t now be the instrument of all ruin.

He didn’t once consider that it was not Alicia that would be the corrupting force inside him, but that of Rufus’ own selfish wants. That need and that all consuming concern, any attempt he might have made to heed the world’s call, lost to the realization that the young woman was awake.

“Alicia!” The name slipped free of his lips, all his better emotions surging back to life inside him. With it came the anticipation, and a feeling he hadn’t indulged in for years. That excited flutter in his stomach, the man more than a little nervous now that he was about to go meet her. He knew that there would be tears, and so much to say, the words that had gone unspoken between them. It was that which made him hesitate now, that slight uncertainty of where to begin, of how to act, stirring turmoil and confusion inside him. Should he act on his first and most strongest of impulses, that of sweeping her into his arms’ embrace? Or would he brought low by sheer magnitude of the gratitude they would BOTH feel at this second chance? If that did happen, Alicia wouldn’t be the only one to cry, unseemly as it might be for God to break down into tears.

They wouldn’t be born of sorrow, not truly, the God simply too full of elation. After all those years of missing her, mourning her, there was now too much hope and promise. The possibilities infinite, the future and chance was now theirs to make of it what they could. The lingering sentiments, the feelings skirted around, it would be all out in the open, nothing and no one to stop them from being together. Not even the maddest of Gods, Hel and her evil, could put asunder and sour the experience, Nifleheim a mischief that would be dealt with in due time.

* * *

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short I know...but it felt like a good spot to end on. But maybe I’ll change my mind, and tinker with t some more. Anyway, hi! Long time no see...I didn’t mean to be gone this long, but life has been hectic, and not because of the move. My cat Platina (Yes the name is from the game!) has been having one medical problem after another, culminating in she is gonna need to get a paralyzed leg amputated eventually. It has been a time of great worry, stress, and fear...heart break and small miracles that I don’t feel like detailing here. Just it felt like every time I even THOUGHT about writing something, she would have something worse happen to her condition which would kill all desire to work on anything. I am kinda amazed I was able to write out this chapter without another bad development happening with her leg. Knock on wood it stays okay!
> 
> Anyway...this was a hard chapter to write. I first had a draft of three pages, but the scene between Freya and Rufus was way too angry and confrontational. They were so hostile. So I trashed that part, and did my second draft, and it ended up just as angry...That is not what I want for them. I want Freya to have this vibe of motherly concern for the world, and a big sister relationship with Rufus where they can and do bicker, but nothing blatantly cruel or truly angry. Not sure I accomplished the relationship dynamics with my third draft, but it is closer to what I am aiming for, so I feel MUCH better.
> 
> I even imagine a scene, though I don’t know if I will ever get to work it in...where they start in on another bickering fest in front of Alana, and she innocently comments that they fight like an old married couple. To which both Gods reel in horror at the thought of being wed to each other. XD
> 
> My third draft, was when I decided the three pages I had, ALL of it needed to be trashed. It was wrong for the fic, and when I reread part of it, I felt like it was bad writing too...so except for like the first two sentences, all of was started over for the third and final draft. Well final except for typos I might miss, and if I do come back and tinker with that ending...though really I am eager to start five...and I think it needs to be another Rufus POV, cause there are thoughts and feelings and realizations expressed, that I want to show through him….I’m both excited and nervous to write the two face to face, though scared I will butcher it something awful…
> 
> Well I better shut up before this author’s note ends up longer than the chapter. XD
> 
> \---Michelle


End file.
